Through the Lens of a Camera
by Eponine54
Summary: PostRENT-Mark cracks under enormous pressure, loneliness, and other things-I can't even describe it just read it! I don't think this is my best, but hey, it was an interesting idea...


Through The Lens Of A Camera  
  
By Cailin Humphrys  
  
I sat on the torn up couch, trying to clean my camera. The lens was clouded up-it reminded me of my own life.   
  
"Stop being so melodramatically philosophical, Mark." I muttered.  
  
It was true though; my life was as clouded as my camera lens. It was pretty ironic, if you thought hard enough about it (which one only did if you were as pathetic as I). A camera lens is put on a camera for the express purpose of being able to see clearly enough to focus in on your object and take a picture. Well the camera lens that enabled me, Mark Cohen, to see clearly in my life, was cloudy to the point where no amount of Windex would get it to come clean. I had no idea what I really wanted anymore, or which direction my life was heading in. I was so lost and confused-but I was the only person I would admit that to. I could never let Roger, Mimi, Collins, Maureen, or Joanne know that I was feeling helpless and lost, that I wanted some comfort. I was the unbreakable Mark, the one everyone always came to for advice, the one everyone looked at and thought, "Now there's someone that knows what he's doing!" The closest anyone had ever come to discovering that I wasn't like that at all was when Roger accused me of hiding behind my camera after Angel's funeral. I was nowhere near close to that. It had been a little over a year and a half since Angel's death, since Mimi had made her miraculous return to life. Roger and Mimi were living happily with me in the loft, and Maureen and Joanne, despite many split-ups, were still happy together. Collins had left New York for a while, and was trying to make his way to Santa Fe. He had promised to write when he got there, and since no one had heard from him as of yet, we assumed he wasn't there yet. Then there was me. It seemed everyone had found their niche once we all realized what we meant to each other, once things seemed to get brighter. I hadn't though. I was still trying to scrape together screenplays and trying to get enough money to buy a new projector. To get money however, one needs a job, and that was something I didn't have. Mimi still danced at the Cat Scratch Club, and Roger had gotten a part-time job as a waiter at the Life Café. They made enough to pay the rent, and to keep a small amount of food on the table. I felt like a bum, just living off of them, but every time I brought it up, all I got was, "It's ok Mark. We know you're working on a film, and that once you sell that, things will be easier."  
  
Finally succeeding in cleaning the lens, I held it up to my eyes to peer through it, and found myself staring at fishnet tights and high-heeled boots. I pulled the camera away from my face, and found myself face to face with Mimi...or, her legs that is. Looking up at her, I said, "Hey, Mimi! You scared the shit out of me!"  
  
Giggling, she replied, "I thought you heard me come in-I'll make sure to have someone give you my calling card next time, ok?"  
  
Tossing a pillow from the couch at her, I said, "Haha, you're a riot. When does Roger get home?"  
  
"His shift ends in a couple of hours. Life Café is open late tonight, remember?"  
  
I nodded, and went back to looking through the lens. It was pretty clear.   
  
"Hey, Mimi," I called, "I need to test the clarity of the lens here-can I take a picture of you?"  
  
"Sure," she called from the bathroom, "Gimme a sec, ok?"  
  
"Ok." I yelled back. I checked the time on the small plastic wall clock. It was three in the morning, but it felt like three in the afternoon. I wasn't tired at all, and the only thing that might have tipped me off as to the time would have been Mimi coming in from her shift-a dancer in a nightclub never gets off any earlier than one in the morning. I heard Mimi's heels clacking along the hallway, and I said, "Pose in the doorframe for the picture."  
  
Mimi smiled her brightest, and leaned against the doorjamb. Crossing her ankles, she looked at the camera seductively. The lens clicked, and then she came over and sat on the couch.  
  
"When do you think you'll get that developed?"  
  
I looked to see how many more exposures I had left.  
  
"In about a week or so, depending on how often I take pictures."  
  
"Well then, it should be less than a week." Mimi said laughingly. Then she said, "Can you take another one-I love posing for pictures!"  
  
I held up my camera and said, "I'll take a head shot of you, but you have to back away a little bit first."  
  
Mimi moved across to the other side of the couch, and smiled at the camera. The lens clicked again, and I thought to myself how Mimi knew exactly the way to light up a picture-that beautiful Hispanic complexion, those dark brown eyes, the long, wavy black hair, her tall, trim figure...it was picture perfect. For some reason, I felt my eyes traveling down to her chest, and I felt myself get a little hard before I realized I was ogling my best friend's girlfriend. Shaking myself, I got up and yawned.  
  
"A bit tired, Mark?"  
  
"Um...yeah. I think I'm going to tuck in, ok?"   
  
"Sure-I'm going to wait up for Roger. I'll see you in the morning."  
  
I started to turn down the hall to my bedroom, when suddenly, Mimi called back, "Actually, Mark-I'm a bit lonely. Would you mind waiting up with me?"   
  
I considered the thought. I was pretty tired suddenly, and I didn't want to chance having another Mark-is-lonely-and-horny episode. But, because I'm Mark, and Mark's a nice guy and is completely self-sacrificial, I called at her, "Sure."  
  
I ambled back down the hall and sat back down on the couch. We sat there in silence for a few minutes, and then I decided that random useless conversation would be better than nothing.   
  
"So..." I began hesitantly, "How was um...business tonight?" Ugh, I thought to myself, that sounded horrible-you're making her sound like a prostitute. Noting Mimi's raised eyebrows, I hastily said, "I mean, was there a good crowd at the club tonight?"  
  
Mimi let her eyebrows go down before replying, "Yeah, it was pretty good sized. A couple of guys wanted to know how much I charged to be taken to their rooms for the night, but other than that, it was a normal night."   
  
There was a pause, and then she continued, "I can't stand it when that happens. I mean, it makes me feel so cheap. Just because I'm a dancer doesn't mean that I'm a whore. I only do what I do because I get paid to do it. I enjoy dancing to a certain extent, but not half as much as some of the other girls...do you think I'm slutty for dancing?"  
  
I stared at her for a moment, and then said, "Slutty? Mimi, you could never be slutty. I don't think that, and I'm sure no one else does either-just ask Roger..." I trailed off as Mimi's face became downcast. "What is it?" I asked her.  
  
"Well," she began, "Roger doesn't really like the fact that I still dance there. He's afraid that some night, some guy will try to take advantage of me and succeed...or something."  
  
"He doesn't think you're slutty, does he?"  
  
"Oh no, he would never think that. I just think he's afraid to get hurt."   
  
"Well, aren't we all..." I muttered. There was a deafening silence after that. Mimi was staring at me inquisitively, and I was lost in my dark thoughts. Hurt...well no one wants to get hurt, but I guess that everyone does for one reason or another. Maureen cheated on me dozens of times, left me for another woman, and made me look like a fool. That hurt, and yet I'm still here, I'm going on, aren't I? I sighed-sometimes all it seemed like was like I was going backwards- and nobody cared, or even noticed.  
  
"That was a rather melancholy sigh." Mimi noted.  
  
"Yeah, it was, wasn't it?"   
  
"Do you want to talk about it?"  
  
"I don't want to burden you with my problems."  
  
"Oh please," Mimi began, "I go to you with mine all the time, and it won't kill you to let me repay the favor."  
  
I considered that for a moment, and then replied, "Sure...why not. Well, we were talking about how Roger doesn't want to get hurt, but that's kind of inevitable, isn't it? Everyone gets hurt for one reason or another...everyone has baggage, everyone wants to change someone or something-but it never works out, all the efforts usually end up wasted."  
  
Mimi was quiet for a moment, and then said, "You've been thinking about Maureen again, haven't you?"  
  
I thought about that for a minute. I always thought about her, I always wondered what drove her to Joanne; I always wished we had another chance. But at this particular time, Maureen hadn't really crossed my mind.   
  
"No...I mean, I always think about her-I still love her- but I wasn't really referring to Maureen."  
  
"Then what do you mean?"  
  
"...It's hard to explain."  
  
"Well, can you try?"  
  
"It's like this...I've never told anyone this either, so please don't say anything to Roger or anyone, ok?"  
  
I felt so vulnerable, almost like a little kid telling his parents he failed a subject in school, and was just waiting for the explosion.   
  
"Sure thing, Mark-you know I won't."  
  
"Well...you and Roger and everyone all know what direction you're going in, you know what you want...and you all have each other. I don't, it's like being a recluse with friends-completely hypocritical and yet very true at the same time. I feel so lost, and scared, and alone..."  
  
I felt my breathing start to get the better of me, I felt suffocated for air. Why was I telling her all this? What could she possibly understand? Mimi came over to me and put an arm around me consolingly.  
  
"I can't say that I totally understand what you're going through, but we are here to help you. You don't always have to be so strong all the time. And just so you know, just because we have a job doesn't mean we know what we're going to do with our lives. I don't wanna be a club dancer until I'm too old to do it anymore. I want to get married to someone I love, have kids, something...Roger doesn't want to wait tables all his life-he wants to sell a CD. We both worry about paying the rent all the time-if I don't dance well enough and he doesn't pick up enough tips, we don't eat, and we don't pay rent. There's a lot more to either of our lives than you know."  
  
I looked into Mimi's eyes, and suddenly felt a feeling of venomous loathing. Jerking away from her, I said savagely, "What the hell do you know, huh? You don't know anything about being bitter, about wanting things you'll never ever have because it's your own damned fault, and you know that someone loves you, that he would die for you-he almost did so many times! I bet you didn't know that though, did you?"  
  
Mimi looked taken aback, but then got angry. "Mark, if you think you can talk to me like that, then you are..."  
  
Suddenly, without realizing what I was doing, I grabbed Mimi and tossed her to the floor, and pinned her by straddling her.   
  
"Mark, what the fuck are you doing?" she shrieked.   
  
I went roughshod over her protests and breathed heavily into her face.  
  
"I'm what? What am I, Mimi-I sure as hell would like to know! I don't seem to know much of anything anymore, and no one seems to care or notice. I'm only Mark, the cameraman, the one who can live without love or without anyone giving a shit. Well I'm sick of that, and I think I'm gonna do something about it."   
  
Mimi was squirming underneath me, but since she was pinned down, there wasn't much she could do-adrenaline is an amazing thing. Mimi could easily take me down any time of the day or night, but my blood was pumping, my heart was racing, and I felt invincible.   
  
"Mark, I don't know what the hell you think you're doing, but it's not funny! Stop it!"   
  
I gripped her wrists harder.  
  
"Shut up." I said cuttingly. "Don't speak. If you continue to say anything, I'll tape your mouth shut."  
  
Mimi's eyes went wide with shock, but she didn't say anything else.   
  
I continued, "You wanna know about hurt, about not knowing what the fuck you're going to do? Well I can tell you the definition of hurt. It has nothing to do with all the bullshit you told me. It has everything to do with missing out, with being the asshole who was stupid enough not to grab what he wanted when he had the chance. So my example for you is me. This asshole here has been lonely and horny, and is sick and tired of being dependable old Mark. So this asshole is going to get rid of that."  
  
Tears were now streaming unchecked down Mimi's cheeks. "Please...Mark..." she was begging me. "Stop...you're hurting me...stop!"  
  
Feeling the joy of the power I had over her, and still feeling loathing, I replied, "I don't think I will. Don't get me wrong-it's not just you-it's everyone. It's poor Roger who wants to be a star, and yet can't control his junkie girlfriend..."  
  
"Mark how can you possibly say that about your best friend! I'm ashamed..."  
  
There was the sound of skin hitting skin, and Mimi's face whipped from one side to the other...I had slapped her. I stared at my hand for a moment, disbelieving, but then came back to where I had been before-almighty and powerful.   
  
"If you speak again, I will slap you again." I said calmly. "Now, where was I? Oh yes...and then there's little Miss Drama Queen Maureen-always being unfaithful, always sobbing her eyes out when one more relationship falls through, and then turning around and screwing the next person she meets. There's Joanne, who can't keep a handle on her lesbian bitch, but always begs her to come back in the end. There's Collins, always trying to be so wise and sage, when he's just as pathetic a loser as the rest of us-he still cries at night sometimes over Angel. Did you know that? At least he was lucky enough to have Angel, to love Angel! Doesn't he realize that Angel is in a better place; that he has to move on? Then last, but not least-is you. The girlfriend who says she doesn't do heroin anymore, and that says she's not a slut for dancing at a nightclub as a paying job-but I think I know better."  
  
Mimi's eyes filled with even more tears, but I was too far gone now. Looking back on what happened, I knew everything I said was wrong, was unforgivable, but at the time, I thought I was speaking an honest truth. I was convinced that I was the only one that didn't deserve what I got.  
  
I licked my lips, and felt a familiar sensation-I could feel myself getting hard again, and I knew what I wanted. I reached out, and touched Mimi's chest.  
  
"Mark, stop it!" she tried to wriggle free, but suddenly, my fist came soaring out of nowhere, and landed on her eye.   
  
"Next time, I'll knock you out, you little bitch!" I screamed, suddenly full of rage. Then, without any prelude, I started undoing my jeans. Mimi screamed, and suddenly threw me off and ran into the bedroom. I ran after her, and before she could lock herself in, I bashed her across the head, and she crumpled to the floor. Before she went fully unconscious, I heard her murmur, "I want Roger...help...me..." before she was out. I carried her to the bed, completely unaware of the magnitude of what I had done. I roughly stripped her of her clothes until she was in her bra and thong. I took off my jeans, and straddled her again. Without bothering to use a condom, I thrust in...looking back, I can't believe I raped her. This was Mimi, one of my best friends, my best friend's girlfriend...what if I had gotten her pregnant? I didn't, thank God, but still...about halfway through, Mimi opened her eyes, and shrieked to beat all hell.  
  
"Holy shit! Oh my God! HELP, SOMEONE! PLEASE HELP!"   
  
At that moment, I heard a rushing up the stairs to the loft, but I thought nothing of it. But when all of ten seconds later, right after I had come, Roger burst into the bedroom, home from his shift, I tried to get up and run. There was no excuse, no way to lie my way out of it. Roger was quicker, and all the while yelling, "Mark! Holy shit, you sick fuck! Are you out of your mind?" he grabbed me, threw me on the floor, and held his foot against my chest. I couldn't breathe, and I gasped, "Roger...stop that..."  
  
He glared at me and snarled, "I don't think I should! I don't know what the fuck is wrong with you these days, and why you just suddenly decided that it was ok to rape my girlfriend, but you better sit tight while I call the cops. You need help, and for once, I'm not going to be the one to give it to you."  
  
He turned to Mimi, who was sobbing in the background.  
  
"Mimi...talk to me, babe. What happened? Did he hurt you?"  
  
She nodded numbly. "He hit me a few times, and punched me once...you saw the rest. You won't believe the things he said about everyone either...Collins, Maureen, you...everyone..." she started to cry again. Roger pulled her to him, all the while making sure I was held down. I knew not to get up. The rage I had had suddenly dissolved, and a slow coldness set in...I had raped Mimi...I had beat her...Roger and Mimi and everyone would never forgive me...I would probably go to jail...I had no money for a lawyer...why did I do this? Before I answered that in my head, Roger had bent down over me, while Mimi went to get some clothes.   
  
"Why, Mark? Why the hell did you do this? What is wrong with you? Why is it that no one could ever reach you, and now it got so bad...that...this," he gestured at Mimi, "happened?"   
  
"I don't know what to say, Roger...it's a combination of loneliness, horniness, and..." I suddenly broke down, tears pouring down my face this time. "And you were right, Roger, you were right all the time. I hide behind my work, I'm afraid to face my failures, to face my own life. I let it go too long, and I snapped. I couldn't take it anymore, but I was supposed to-I'm Mark, the dependable, unbreakable, the one everyone runs to...but not anymore." Roger shook his head, and then lifted his foot. I lay there, and cried. I didn't move, not once. The next few minutes passed in a blur-the police came, I was led out of the loft, and Mimi put a restraining order on me. I could see the hardness of her face as I signed the order...hard, unforgiving, and full of hatred. I could see Roger's face-torn by his love and his best friend, and not totally believing what had just happened. As I was led out, the last thing I saw in the loft penetrated through the darkness-my camera. The lens had fogged up again. It had been clear before, when Mimi and I had just been conversing, when she had been trying to help. It had fogged up again though, and was just as cloudy and uncertain as what had happened afterwards was. But that was what my life would look like to anyone who just happened to peer through it, as if through the lens of my camera. 


End file.
